Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1887-01-26

OF MIN, mere lies ID gFedG soul kiu6Q ny
cruel wrong?" Would O. "bleak, DESC
late noon" be all left to him of this
beautiful dream of his clouded life, and
would the words that rushed uph hot
y from his lhsa5t" a Gao5m9eS tt29 naught at
Sorrow had always kept his soul
| heretofore, but lately he had dreamed
of brighter, better things.
The gates of q fair, sweet Edenland
| had been held aiar for him by her
hand, and the past few months had
| been like a beautiful sunset showing
| against his dark day.
They had revealed to him what his
life might have been-had she come to
him in years gone by; but, perhaps,
| they, too: were more like q beautiful
sunset than he cared to have them;
perhaps they would go out into cheer
less night, as the gold and purple
bands, trembling away out there in
! the gray cleaning of the November
twilight, would fade into the comfort
| less West.
He would sit down in this lonely
| hour, and write to her all that was in
| his heart. 1t seemed a desperate re-
solve for one of his timid, supersensi-
tive nature, but he had come to where
he could not keep silent longer He
would risk it; this confession would
| have to be made some time, and why
not tonight? He never could say it
| to her, he thought; but he could write
| it, for the warm, passionate, poet
| soul was beating against these bar
riers of silence, impatient to be heard.
! And when the gray twilight had
deepened into NIGHT the letter was fin
ished-the letter with the oldest re
quest in it that he had ever penned.
He had said: "If you can only be
friend-and God bless you! you have
been good one-answer this letter
by saying so; if you can return my
love and will keep the heart | have
long since given you, please call on ME
on your return, and | will know when
| set my eyes on you that the sun
shine has come to my soul to stay
and forever to bless; but, if you are
offended by this earnest appeal of an
honest heart, pass me by and write
me from your own home"
By and by there came a letter, and
his brain whirled as the familiar SUI
prescription met his gaze. All. what
had she written? His heart stood
still in its agony of suspense, as his
trembling fingers tore of the end ofthe
white envelope. She had written on
ly d line, and it said: II shall be on
my way home next week." The mis-
sive slipped from his hand to the floor
and he sat perplexed. Did she mean
that she was going to pass him by,
Pharisee fashion, or did she mean
that she intended to stop off and see
him? OH 1t must be that she was
intending to call, as she did not say
one word about being lust a friend"
No, she either meant to make him
happy or plunge him back into the |
gulf OF nothingness from which she had
lifted him. All! that would be some
thing beside which death would be a |
kindnessis, &iIIo' 81 7'a.s5 ! q - .'
next week" had come and gone up
to Friday noon, still he sat by the |
window watching every westward !
bound train. His position also gave
him view of the street, and he knew |
the way she would come-if she came |
to him at all.
The days he had waited seemed end |
less, but the week was going too fast !
Oh! for a glimpse of her around the |
corner yonder. There was the last |
train for to-day. Now he would look |
with eager eyes for it might be that
surely she would have had time now |
to come in sight, but she had not.
No, she meant to forget him, and he |
covered his weary eyes with his hands, !
and sat still, So still that he was |
counting the pulsations of his aching !
heart. A step sounded on the walk |
outside, but he had not the courage
to look up; of course it was not her, |
and he wished that he was-but the |
door opened softly, and-"I have
come" she said.
He looked up, there stood the one |
dear woman OF all the world, radiant
with the love light in her happy,
kindly face, and she was holding out
her hands to him.
"Oh! it is you," he exclaimed, a
wild delight ringing through his words.
His vision grew misty, and he trem.
bled with his great happiness. He
clasped her to his Joyous heart, and |
pressed a long passionate kiss-the
one kiss of his lifetime-on the blessed
face. "My love, my life.' he said,
with emotion, still holding her in his
arms. "Do you know what your
coming brings, dearest?" he asked,
looking down into her bright face.
Happiness, she answered with a
smile.
More than that, love-" and he
passed his hand carressingly over the
full white brow, with its rings of clus-
tering hair. at means ecstatic bliss;
it means that | have now no part
nor lot with poor Richard Realf for
| can 60 to conquest in the light OF
your love, my own; it means that my
sorrowful life shall be filled with sun
shine, and that the sweet cup, instead
of bitter. has been placed to my wait
ing lips at last. The gates of my Ed
enland of bright dreams of love and
fame are no more to be closed against
me; all because you have saved me
from my failure"
This was long speech for the timid,
retiring man to make, but he was very
happy now, and the love of his soul
had come after years of patient wait.
ing.
A happy, contented light shone
from the depths OF the blue gray eyes,
and the happy woman III his arms
said, reverently: II have found my
Beulah in the great, good soul of my
friend. We, you and l, have been
children of sorrow, but now for us the
MUSES. may sing soft, sweet PSALM
and at evening it shall be light "
And her lover answered in his deep,
manly voice, "Amen!" L.
CROKER.
Meaning of the Word Zero.